eeding that he was trying to entrap her into some slight indiscretion
of speech that he could make use of afterwards, for he must needs
justify himself to himself if he decided to dismiss her.

As he had been asked to notice her he remarked her shining brown hair.
It frizzled like a furze-bush about her tiny face, and curled over her
forehead. Her white even teeth showed prettily between her lips. She was
not without points, but notwithstanding these it could not be said that
she deserved the adjective pretty; and he was already convinced that it
was not good looks that prejudiced her in Father Peter's eyes. Nor was
the excuse that her singing attracted too much attention an honest one.
What Father Peter did not like about the girl was her independent mind,
which displayed itself in every gesture, in the way she hopped over the
stile, and the manner with which she toyed with her parasol--a parasol
that seemed a little out of keeping with her position, it is true. A
very fine parasol it was; a blue silk parasol. Her independence betrayed
itself in her voice: she talked to the parish priest with due respect,
but her independent mind informed every sentence, even the smallest,
and that was why she was going to be dismissed from her post. It was
shameful that a grave injustice should be done to a girl who was
admittedly competent in the fulfilment of all her duties, and he had not
tried to conceal his opinion from Father Peter during dinner and after
dinner, leaving him somewhat earlier than usual, for nothing affronted
him more than injustice, especially ecclesiastical injustice.

As he rode his bicycle down the lonely road to Bridget's cottage, the
thought passed through his mind that if Nora Glynn were a stupid,
intelligent woman no objection would have been raised against her. 'An
independent mind is very objectionable to the ecclesiastic,' he said to
himself as he leaped off his bicycle.... 'Nora Glynn. How well suited
the name is to her. There is a smack in the name. Glynn, Nora Glynn,' he
repeated, and it seemed to him that the name belonged exclusively to
her.

A few days after this first meeting he met her about two miles from
Garranard; he was on his bicycle, she was on hers, and they both leaped
instinctively from their machines. What impressed him this time far more
than her looks was her happy, original mind. While walking beside her he
caught himself thinking that he had never seen a really happy face
before